


A Good Boy Get Away with Murder

by Liast



Series: Spooky Writober (thewritersgarden) [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Hell Loops (Lucifer TV), Implied/Referenced Suicide, King of Hell Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Lucifer and Hell are Connected, Murder, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 04:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liast/pseuds/Liast
Summary: The Detective and her Devil partner got a new case. There was a dead end, so Lucifer popped down to Hell and had a chat with one of the victim. "Who killed you?"And Hell repeated his loop.





	A Good Boy Get Away with Murder

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on Spooky Writober by thewritersgarden I found on Instagram. The first prompt is A Killer's Past. 
> 
> Spoiler alerts tho. Despite the prompt's title, this is not spooky at all. Honest. The only spooky thing about this are my horrid grammars and tenses. And I'd like to say, I am my own beta reader. Sorry not sorry.  
Here you go!

“Decker, the Lieutenant called.”

Chloe Decker and her partner, the Devil himself jerked away, like a couple of highschooler caught almost kissing each other by their teacher. Lucifer stood abruptly, cleared his throat, and turned to officer Cucuzza from evidence. “Taking revenge, are we?”

“You took two kilos, Lucifer.” Cucuzza rolled her eyes while she passed their desk. She let him take a pound, or a kilo of coke if they busted big drug cartel and got enough evidences to supply LA for a month. But never two. No, that’s just too much, even with Lucifer’s pretty eyes, donut with mint icing, chocolate chips, and chocolate drizzle, and a cup of hazelnut frappuccino in his hands. Called her petty, but Randie has been eyeing her for a whole week and it sucked.

“To make up for last month, I’d say.” He looked at Chloe – face flustered, and hands busy with tidying her hair and jacket, obviously embarrassed at being caught leaning in to him by their coworker – and hoped that she didn’t caught up on his brief banter. “Ugh.”

“I can’t believe you steal from evidence.” Chloe stood up, walked beside Lucifer, slowly, so she could calm her heart down before they reach the lieutenant’s office. 

“Ah, not stealing because she knows and lets me do it. Beside, I’m taking it to good use, Detective.”

“Of course.”

“Come now, Detective, are you suggesting that I should buy from shady drug dealers like the good citizen of LA?”

“More like stop doing it at all. But who am I kidding?” she laughed and the sarcasm didn’t even reached him. “What are you doing with all of your money again? Other than dumping it to a thief in your own home.”

“I told you I am very generous Devil. Beside, Mr. Said Out Bitch is in hell right now, probably planning a robbery with Bill Mason. Or having a threesome with Bonnie and Clyde.” The way Lucifer said it was so offhandedly that Chloe stopped in her track, had another celestial, or infernal, information dump, and wondered if they really did that in Hell. Or it was just Lucifer messing with her head without even knowing it.

That was the truth, though. He was dead and very much in Hell. Lucifer visited his cell when he was bored because his hell-loop was so funny that he always watched for a few hours every week. Sometimes he even participated and messing with him, that was the good days. Then there was one time when he was feeling really down, missing Chloe and everyone on Earth, and instead of messing with his latest robbery-gone-wrong loop, he ended up ranting his heart out to him. When he left and feeling a little better, Lucifer gave him some leeway, like invited other thieves to his cell to plan some robbery or else. Even when the dullard called him a really sad devil guy. The nerve.

Chloe sighed and resumed her walk. Lucifer opened the door for her, for once, and they were greeted by the lieutenant who stood by his desk, a stack of paper in his hand. “A case for you. Murder in 12th Ave. Solve this one as quickly as you can.”

“Okay, we’ll work the crime scene.” Chloe said and they walked out as soon as they entered. 

The murder happened last night. Two men found dead inside a popular café there, Cri Roast. One victim named Vincent Henson was stabbed in his chest, Ella found nine stab wounds after quick counting. The other one, Elliot Brandt was killed by a bullet to the head, right in the center. Both were the co-owner of said café. No murder weapon in sight. 

With police lines surrounding the café and uniformed men guarding it, it soon attracted so much attention from the public. Many passerby and regular customers stopped and tried to get more news. Some college students took their phones and Chloe was pretty sure that the news will spread faster even before local television could broadcast it. Dan came and said that some passerby witness a man got out of the café late at night, looked paranoid and a little suspicious. 

Later, they went back to the precinct, having been informed that the main suspect was brought in. Turned out, it was Keenan Henson, the older brother and friend of both victims. He was a famous gamer on the internet, the runner up on 2015 world tournament of some shooting game, currently jobless and lives in the same apartment as his brother.

All evidence pointed at him. The CCTV camera from the store across the café showed him entered and got out at night. And after thorough searched in his apartment, they found a bloodied knife and a hand gun, legal under his name. Comments and statements from some regulars and neighbors brought them to a conclusion that he was depressed, became a heavy drinker since last year, couldn’t keep a steady job, and prone to start confrontation online with other gamers that he didn’t like. Some said that maybe he became angry, stabbed his own brother and shot his friend, he got enough practices in his game anyway. 

“But you got to believe me, man. It’s not me. I swear.” Keenan said with desperation in his voice, unlike his usual harsh way he talked on the internet that Chloe and Lucifer watched before. “It was the devil.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lucifer rose from his seat, but Chloe gripped his arm to stop him there. “How dare you. I have nothing to do with this.”

“All evidences pointed at you. Why do you keep –”

“I don’t know what happened. One moment we were there, drinking coffee as usual, the next thing I know he had a knife in his hand and stabbed my brother. I couldn’t stop him. I don’t know what happened. And the he just pull out a gun from his back and- it was the devil, I saw his eyes. It was crazy. He looked like he was possessed. Please. I don’t know what to do.”

“I told you –”

“Lucifer, please.” Chloe tightened her grip on him. He sighed and nodded, letting her take charge once again. “You keep repeating that. Why did you took the knife and gun, then? And hide yourself, without informing the police?”

“I was panicked. I don’t know what to do.” He cried out. “Please, it’s not me. Elliot kill my brother and then he shoot himself. So I ran.”

“Just one quick question then,” Lucifer hold up his hand and looked in to his eyes. “Tell me, Keenan, what is it you truly desire?”

“I ….”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to be accused.”

Lucifer shared a look with Chloe before he asked again. “Accused of what?”

“Of this murder, man. I told you it’s not me. It was Elliot. But no one believe that, right, because he was a nice person, all smile, free drink this, free food that, while I’m just … a loser, a drunkard. He really was a good samaritan, while no one would believe me. But that night,” Keenan took a deep breath, fisted his handcuffed hands, and steeled himself. “I didn’t recognize him. It’s like a switch has been flipped, you know? Like he suddenly turned crazy. Or possessed, I don’t know.”

Lucifer stayed silent, his mind ran rampant. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Chloe looked at him for a minute before turned back to Keenan. “Okay, you’re staying here. Lucifer?”

They exited the interrogation room and went to the hearing room instead. Once inside, Chloe asked before Lucifer even closed the door. “Demonic possession?”

“Ugh.” Lucifer sighed and closed the door. “I assure you this is not the case.”

“But maybe because you’re here again, so th –” 

“Detective, I would know if that was the case.” Lucifer cut her, already knew where she was going. That was the first thing she asked, anyway, when he came back here, what if the demon came back up too?

“How can you be sure?” she pressed, insistently.

“Bacause Hell and I are connected.” At her wide eyed questioning look, he explained more. “Ever since its existence, Hell and I are connected, not that I am completely aware before. But after Charlie and Dromos and all that terror, I’ve come to accept it, my fate, my purpose as the ruler of Hell, as its king. So when I came back down there, I was- am connected. I can feel it, like it is my own mind. We are linked.”

Chloe took a moment to proceed what he said. “So, you would know everything that happened down there?”

“No, that’s just too much. I’m not that eager to know whatever tortures happened down there. But I’d know whoever enter the realm, who get out if there is any, where every one are with my thought alone, something like that.”

“And no demons on the loose here?” Chloe asked again, just to be sure, eyes locked on the figure across the one way mirror.

“No. Althought that got me thinking.” Lucifer looked at Keenan, hands clasped together, lower lip between his teeth, and his eyes looked from one spot to another. “Why don’t I pop down there and asked the dead chap himself?”

Chloe turned to Lucifer but there was only air in the place where he stood just a second ago. “Oh God, please tell me he didn’t really go back to Hell.”

-  
-  
-

Five weeks after he came back to Earth, Lucifer thought that he wouldn’t be back down south in another decades or at least a century. But here he was. Ash floating around his impeccable black and white suit, and he thought about Elliot Brandt, the victim of his latest case with the Detective, if he was here, where he might be? So Hell showed him. 

There was no neon lights pointing to Brandt’s cell. Or demons who guided him there. Or booming voice that said it’s up there, My Lord, go straight ahead, walk through Freezing Bore Class, then turn to your right, and his cell is right there, number four from the door with purple light. No. Lucifer thought about it, and Hell, it showed him, it made him knew. Now, Hell was somehow a part of himself.

Lucifer walked on the ground with piling ash on it to the direction of Brandt’s cell. For once, he didn’t need to be worried about dirtying his red soles, because he didn’t want to, so they didn’t. He was not aware before, but it was one of very few things he liked about Hell, some physics did not apply to him, just because he didn’t want to. Maze called him clean freak for it, and laughed on his horrified face when he accidentally stepped on a puddle, the first week after he came back on Earth after a year and a half, or approximately a century, in Hell. 

Once he arrived on said cell, he took a deep breath and opened the door. “Let’s get you some justice, eh.”

Inside was not what he had expected.

Instead of a young man, there was a boy. Elliot Brandt. They were in a living room, the television was on and the Elliot sat on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, watching a group of green turtle with swords and sticks. Over the childish banter on television, Lucifer could hear a fight from the kitchen. So was the boy, as he turned his head, and with unsure steps, he walked to the kitchen.

Lucifer followed him from behind, he had not announce himself yet, as he was interested in this hell loop now. Apparently Elliot had some childhood guilt that gave him a one way ticket to Hell.

Little Elliot stood right at the doorway to the kitchen, hand gripped the frame, his feet shuffled. In front of them, a middle aged man and woman, his parents Lucifer was sure, was fighting, voices loud and escalated quickly. Hands started to move, and soon, the wife slapped the man’s cheek. 

They fell in silence, only heavy breathing from the pair’s mouths and Elliot’s cry that he heard.  
The mother turned to look at Elliot. The father, well, he didn’t waste any chance and grabbed a knife from the counter. In a flash, the knife had buried in her stomach. The man gasped, and then he smiled. He laughed when he pulled it out, and he stabbed her again, and again, and again. Blood poured out of her. Her once yellow dress now a deep crimson, forever stained in this hell loop. Elliot screamed.

In an instant, the front door opened, and a man ran inside. “What happened here? Elliot?”

Then he stopped dead on his track, tried to make sense of the scene before him. The father knelt, bloodied knife fell out of his hand, manic smile on his face. The mother laid, silent, dead. Elliot’s scream had become a background voice by now. He hastily run inside, shoved the father, and checked the mother. Useless. He felt rage. He didn’t know what to do. He picked up the bloody knife in his now bloody hand, and pointed at the father. “What have you done?”

The father kept laughing.

It soon became a blur and the police came in. They asked questions and brought the mother, her dead body, to an ambulance. They asked Elliot, who sat on the couch, stared at the post credit showed on television, a cup of hot chocolate in his trembling hands, who was the killer? He eyed his father, five feet apart from him, looked as shocked as himself. He opened his mouth and all he could think was his unsettling laugh and his twisted face, the whisper in his ear after the neighbor was handcuffed by the police, don’t tell anyone. 

So he didn’t. And Hell repeated his loop.

They were in the living room again, the television was still on and little Elliot sat on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, watching a group of green turtle with swords and sticks. Lucifer came closer then, sat beside him on the couch, and looked at his small face, at the tears falling down from his eyes. Over the childish banter on the television, Lucifer could hear a fight from the kitchen. Elliot turned his head toward the kitchen and Lucifer held his shoulder, stopped him from going there. He finally realized that he was not alone in the living room.

“Who are you?” his voice wavered. And that was why Lucifer hated it when children go to Hell. The contradiction of it, the child faces being tortured, because they were too pure to felt guilt, or simply too monstrous to be locked in here.

“Lucifer Morningstar.”

“What?” he looked uncertain. There was a slap, and the fight over the kitchen stopped. “What is this place?”

“It’s your hell loop. And I have a question for you.” Lucifer looked at him in the eyes, “Who killed you?”

“What? Killed me?”

“Yes. I just said we’re in your hell loop, of course you need to be dead first to enter Hell. Keep up, will you?” he sighed, always impatient. “Now that we’re on the same page, I’ll ask again. Who killed you?”

Elliot frowned and looked around him. He kept silent for quite some time and Lucifer sighed again. “I am dead?”

“Very much.” Lucifer groaned and crossed his legs. If it took this long, might as well make himself comfortable.

He fell silent again. There was a laugh from the kitchen, and soon, the front door opened. The neighbor ran inside. As it came to realization, Elliot spoke. “I killed myself.”

Lucifer turned to him. “Excuse me?”

“I killed myself. Right after I stabbed Vince.”

“Why would you do that?” he sounded disbelieved, but it was Hell, and it was part of himself. No one lied to him.

“I like it.” Elliot smiled. There was an indistinct voice of what have you done? from the kitchen. “I like to see the blood oozed out of human body. How they poured from the wound, how they pool on the floor. It gave me a rush, and at the same time, it calmed me. I like it a lot.”

He felt rage building up inside his chest and he pushed it down. “So you killed your own friend just because you like it?”

“Yes. And many more, but you don’t know that, do you?” his laugh echoed the one from the kitchen. 

And Lucifer became so sick he wanted the rage to come back. “Tell me.”

“You really want to know? Fine, I’ll tell you. I’m nice like that.” He grinned. 

“My first kill was in my last day of junior high school. She was my best friend, Amy. She was really excited for prom night, she couldn’t stop talking about it. They got matching outfits, Amy and her boyfriend, but that afternoon she found that he was cheating on her. She couldn’t take it, she kept repeating she wanted to die. So as her best friend …” he smiled, really smiled, and looked as thought he was replying the memory of it. Like he was in love with it. “She was my first and I can’t forget her.

“Jess is my second. My classmate in high school. I didn’t really know him, but I know that he was bullied and he wanted to die. So was my third, Ian from the neighborhood. And Nathan, Silvia, Damien, Elza, Amber, and Arnalds. Oh, I love Arnalds. He was the best. Sadly, Vince was the last.”

“Why did you murder them?” Lucifer’s eyes burned with fire and he became wrath.

“I told you I like it.” Elliot smiled like he was proud of himself.

“And you didn’t feel guilty for them.” There was no question in it.

The door was opened once again. The police came in. They dragged the neighbor away. The father came and whispered in Elliot’s ear, he smiled. 

“Who was the killer?” And suddenly Elliot held a steaming mug, an officer knelt in front of him, and once again he was sucked in to the loop. He opened his mouth but there was no sound. A quick glance to the father and he claimed that the neighbor was the killer. 

The post credit rolled out, and soon, the show began. The green turtle came in to view. The monster in a child suit cried.

“It keeps happening. Over and over.”

“Yes, it is your hell loop after all.” But there was something that Lucifer didn’t understand. “You murder all these people, your friends, and you didn’t even felt guilt. But this?”

“The neighbor, Hans, was a good man, and because of me, he was jailed for all his life. I feel guilty of him. And my father, he acted as if nothing happened. He fucked Hans’ wife the day my mother was buried, and they fucking lived on.” He laughed but there was no humor underneath. “You know what he told me after all of this?”

Lucifer clenched his jaw and stared hard in his eyes. No wonder Keenan thought that Elliot was insane or possessed by him. He switched emotions at the blink of an eye.

“He told me, how to get away with murder. His hands are on my shoulders and he slowly said to me, be a good boy, be a nice man, and one day, you’ll get away with murder. Because that’s what everyone did, isn’t? A nice kid, did something terrible later, when he was an adult, and everyone would say how nice of him, how a good kid like him is never gonna be able to do something terrible like that. But look at me, I mean, you’d never know about them if I never told you, would you? And I was good at hiding bodies.” 

Over the childish banter on television, Lucifer could hear a fight from the kitchen. So was the monster, as he turned his head, and with unsure steps, he walked to the kitchen. He cried.

And Lucifer left.

The flight was more like a blink of an eye than an actual wings flapping across the realm. He was in Hell, a second passed, and he was back in the hearing room, the Detective looked distress. “Please don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry, love. I’m sure I was not gone for a whole year this time.” He glanced at the man across the glass. “He’s not the killer.”

“What?”

“I popped down stair, chatted with the dead sod, Elliot,” he spat his name, “the true killer. Murderer. He’s receiving his punishment now.”

“So it’s true? Keenan told the truth? And Elliot murdered Vincent and then shot himself to dead?”  
“Yes. And eight other people, I’d have to say.” Lucifer fisted his hands. He felt her hands around his.

“Another murders?” she asked, uncertain.

Lucifer hummed before he elaborated. “Since he was a teenager. His friends. And he dared to like them. I’ll write you their names.”

“Okay.” She looked into his eyes and saw wrath in them, and the sadness underneath. “Why don’t you go home first, hm? Make diner, and make it special, please? Dan and Ella is coming over. I’ll finish this.”

“I always make it special for you only, dear.” He kissed her lips, fast and shallow. He kept the deep one when they were alone, when they wouldn’t be hurried by something or be interrupted by someone, it was sacred like that.

“See you at home.” The smile on her face washed away all his wrath and sadness.

“See you at home.”


End file.
